


The Bunker Situation

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Series: Tumblr Stuff [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You), Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, POV Castiel, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You), Shock, Showers, Vessel Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:26:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9813212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: Back at the bunker, the events at the barn catch up with Cas.





	

Cas is sick again and again. The retching stops after a while, but the weakness and the unsteady heaving of his stomach stay. He’s sitting next to the toilet, head leaning against the cold metal drain of the sink and lets the _drip-drip-drip_ of the leaking faucet lull him into a state somewhere between sleep and total exhaustion. The drying sweat on his back makes him shiver.

He doesn’t know how long he stays like this, awareness drifting with the slow beat of his heart. Dean hadn’t looked at him once since he told him they would go home, and they hadn’t spoken a single word on the drive back. Cas had stared into the night and when he had focused his eyes just right he had seen Sam and Mary exchanging looks in the reflection of the window. With a sigh, he had concentrated back on the light flashing by as the Impala ate the miles to the bunker.

_Home._

Another word with four letters whose meaning runs through his fingers like fine sand whenever he tries to grasp it.

It’s well after midnight when a knock on the door cuts through his sluggish thoughts. Dean’s voice drifts over and Cas shakes his head to make sense of the words. The voice, low and inquiring at the beginning, rises to a tone of concern and determination. He doesn’t react.

The door opens and closes. In the time Dean needs to reach him, Cas tries to push aside the cotton clogging up his brain, but he’s slow and Dean has never had much patience.

Hands are hot on his face and it gets turned up to where Dean hovers over him. His green eyes are huge with panic. “-as? Talk to me, buddy.”

Cas licks his lips and tries to speak but his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth and his throat is full of sandpaper. Dean reaches up and fumbles around. Water’s running and cut off. Something cold presses against his lips and Dean says, “Drink.” So Cas does.

He realizes how cold he is in the exact moment his body starts to tremble. His legs and his back hurt and he can still _feel_ the cracks in his skin and his stomach’s heaving again to get the dead tissue out. Out.

Dean’s hands are back, anchoring him. He whispers words without meaning and Cas tunes in to the sounds even if he doesn’t know what is said. The wave of nausea passes. The fog clears slowly after that.

“Okay, I’ll lift you up now. Let’s get you in the shower.”

Strong hand wind under his arms and Dean grunts with the effort but at long last they stand. He leans against the tiles while Dean goes to work on his clothes, still sticky from sweat and other things. Cas lets himself be turned here and there, arms up, arms down, leg up, leg down.

The porcelain puts two cold spots on his back right where his wings used to be.

Cas closes his eyes.

The rustling continues but his body is quiet. Dean must undress, too.

Then the hands are back, warm and efficient. He built those hands and still thinks of that as one of his greatest accomplishments. Who would have known that he would need them one day as a last tether to his sanity?

When Dean pushes him under the warm spray, his mind struggles back to consciousness but it takes a couple of minutes for him to process that he’s not alone. Dean’s here with him and his hands are gentle when he lathers up his hair and digs his fingers into his scalp. His palms run over Cas’ back and as the minutes tick by every move centers him.

The next sense is smell. Citrus and sandalwood. It’s Dean’s shower gel that blends with his human scent to a heady fragrance. Familiar and forbidden.

His hearing comes back after that. Over the running water he can make out what Dean is mumbling. “…should have checked on you sooner. Hell, Cas, I didn’t know. You almost died in my arms and I… I just couldn’t … and that confession. I’ve said some cheesy thing when I thought I’d die, ha … I said some cheesy things when I died period. I guess… I wanted to give you some space, think it through maybe?” He chatters on, clearly thinking Cas is still out.

“I meant it.” His voice is rough and barely a whisper, but Dean’s hands stop on his shoulders. The pointer finger on his right collarbone taps nervously. Once. Twice. He starts to say “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” –

“I love you, too.” Dean’s voice is high and it trembles around the vocals and Cas thinks he’s not hearing clearly, but then the hand on his right shoulder pulls and turns him and Dean’s right there.

“I love you, dumbass, and don’t you ever die on me again, you hear me?”

Cas nods, dazed, one second surrounded only by air and water and crushed against Dean’s skin the next.

“I can’t promise that,” he grumbles, and he can feel Dean’s shoulders sag with relief.

They stay until the water turns cold. And then they go to bed.

Cas learns what home feels like.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [@procasdeanating on tumblr](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/post/157403443091/12x12-coda). Come say hi!


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